When I was a very small
flint rock, I could see all the
whiteness about me. I could
see the moldy five boulders below
me, and one cracked one way off
in the distance. I’ve wondered
about that rock in the distance
for a very, very long time.
Where did he come from?
Is the crack there because
a bearded giant kicked him?
Oh, well. Guess I’ll never know.
But that life I was talking
about . . . my
whole life, to be exact,
that mysterious life will be
destroyed in a matter of seconds!
The rocks below me which
hold me up are tilting, ready
to fall. When they fall, I will
endlessly drop, too, never to
halt. But they do not fall.
They were just quaking off
dust. Everything is peaceful. A
wave of relief drenches my face.
Rocks in the distance, rocks below.
By Allison, 3rd grade
[photo by dubbelt halvslaq via flickr]